


Le pouvoir de fleur

by artisticFlutter



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hanahaki Disease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 13:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11647716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artisticFlutter/pseuds/artisticFlutter
Summary: Love can be beautiful. A literal blossoming warmth inside that can cause severe chest pains. It may eventually suffocate the infected if they cannot be loved in return.Inspired by a post by FloofNoir on Tumblr (Link within)





	Le pouvoir de fleur

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Miraculous Ladybug/Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir was created by Thomas Astruc and Zagtoons, Inc. Please support the official releases.
> 
> Beta Reader: [xTheBlackAngelx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xTheBlackAngelx/pseuds/xTheBlackAngelx)
> 
> Tumblr Inspiration Post: [FloofNoir](https://floofnoir.tumblr.com/post/163235077323/an-early-birthday-present-for-yaoi-hime-o7-o)

She’d like to imagine there’s some alternate or parallel world where love isn’t terrifying; that when you fall in love with someone and it goes unreciprocated or unrequited, that it didn’t do anything. Maybe it still hurt in another way, like emotionally from yearning, and you want to have the courage to tell that person you love them, but instead, you recoil just because you fear being rejected.

Not because… you might get them sick, too.

Not because… hearing that they don’t love you, that you might as well be dead.

Hanahaki Disease was a unique, but very common disease in the world where the infected began to grow flowers in their lungs. It started with the infected coughing up seeds and gradually, it progressed to petals. The more it advanced, the worse it became with actual stems, blood, and then the flowers. All of them would try to slither from your lungs and esophagus at the same instance, the horrific tangle of beautiful blossoms and their ever-expanding roots growing and choking – or worse, piercing and deflating – your body the more your love goes unreturned. Maybe the infected would be lucky and that love would only be infatuation making them spit up a few seeds, or unfortunately wheeze on small flowers and petals; or maybe that love would become mutual, platonic between friends.

But when it didn’t…

Marinette didn’t know anyone personally that died from the Hanahaki Disease, but she had heard about it. Her parents had lost friends during their college years. People wanted to be more open for their right to love who they chose amidst this terrible epidemic and refused to fear it. Her mother explained the disease wasn’t always so prevalent in the past considering arranged marriages were more prominent. Couples then learned to love each other, but the ones that didn’t and fell for others ended up shamed and left to be killed by the disease despite treatments becoming available.

Arranged marriages still existed, but generally didn’t happen until a child turned eighteen. Some people were married sooner, others later; it all depended. Usually it was the parents that decided, but sometimes, the parents allowed the children to choose.

Marinette’s parents asked her what she wanted.

Foolishly, she was a romantic.

She dreamed of meeting someone the way her father and mother had met. They had seen each other across the campus they attended and their feelings soon began to grow when they realized they shared several lectures. Soon, it began to  _ hurt _ before they finally talked and found their love was true. She wanted her eyes to meet someone (it didn’t matter who) and she wanted to feel her heart flutter. Briefly, she wanted to experience that dizziness in her head and ache in her lungs just to know what it was like to really, truly fall in love.

She was so stupid.

Always going ignored in her early years of schooling, she had begun to think it would never happen to her.

But then, she met him: Adrien Agreste.

Their eyes met as he offered her his umbrella during a gentle storm and what had been contempt changed to infatuation. It was everything she wanted; the warmth rising to her face as he smiled, the dizziness at his laugh, and her heart fluttered before her lungs painfully contracted.

The first seeds came that evening after she got home. Hastily, she threw them away as though it might change the truth, but she knew it was too late.

 

* * *

 

The seeds continued.

Other boys approached her that weren’t him.

Nathaniel confessed to her after being akumatized and she managed to turn him down gently. Though disheartened, he managed a smile and asked to still be friends. She was somewhat envious how he stopped spitting out petals a few days after that conversation. He managed to work up the courage to confess to her, but looking at Adrien again, she could not manage the words herself.

She could do it.

She  _ had _ to do it so she could be rejected and live, but she didn’t - it wouldn’t free her.

In her head and heart, she could just tell that his rejection would not be enough.

It wasn’t his fault that he considered her just a friend and it wasn’t her fault she learned more about him in this prospect. After all, a good friend  _ should _ learn more, but every time he laughed or smiled her way, it made her heart hammer and her lungs constricted with several more seeds being deposited into her hand as a result.

“Ten seeds is a bit much, Mari,” Alya said, standing nearby as Marinette washed her mouth in the school bathroom. Her pale brows upon warm skin were furrowed, but Marinette said nothing on it, tossing her paper towel into the bin. With a sigh and her bag on her shoulder, they walked out, passing the other students still standing on the quad only to freeze at the entryway stairs. Adrien was there with Nino at the bottom, waiting for them so they could go have lunch. Fortunately, their backs were turned so they missed Marinette spitting out another seed.

Alya was not amused.

“You have to tell him,” she hissed, forcing a grin and waving when the boys spotted them. Marinette pretended that she hadn’t just hacked up a carnation seed as she joined in the waving, shaking her head once they were looking away. Alya scowled and whispered, “Girl, you’ve been coughing up seeds way more often lately! Who knows when you start spewing out petals; I’m actually surprised you haven’t already!”

“Maybe that’s a silver-lining then,” Marinette replied, keeping her voice down as they descended the steps. “If I keep coughing up seeds, it just means it’s a crush, right?”

“Maybe,” Alya sighed, “but… I don’t know. What if with more seeds it just means the next stage is going to be worse?”

“I don’t know, but that hasn’t happened to anyone before.”

She tried not to think about Alya’s words after school that day when several colorful petals came up after her coughing fit that night.

 

* * *

 

When she’s Ladybug, Marinette could breathe freely.

She didn’t cough out seeds or spit out petals while she’s around Chat Noir and fighting akuma, but Tikki told her it was only temporary. The suits could only slow the progression of her illness and limit the symptoms just like any other, but once they came off, they would return. Any stimulation, any seeds or flowers she did not choke out now, she would once the transformation disappeared. It made her wonder then, while they were out on patrol, if Chat Noir suffered the same way she did.

When he returned home and when the magic was gone, did it feel like his lungs collapsed? Did he cough out seeds and petals while thinking about her? Did his heart at least flutter and leave him feeling warm despite the pain and knowing she might be his death?

It wasn’t as though she didn’t know. He’d never given her a reason to doubt him before, but she couldn’t return his feelings to the same extent. Her kitten was suffering and it was all her fault. If she didn’t love Adrien first, she knew she wouldn’t mind loving her partner. For as obnoxious as he could be, he was still so loyal and kind, ready to protect her and do whatever was necessary so they could save the day. She couldn’t imagine being Ladybug without him.

… Would he be alright with another Ladybug?

Tonight, she didn’t watch him as he headed home, clutching her hand to her chest, her mind lost to the events of this afternoon. She had seen Adrien briefly, gazing at her – gazing at Ladybug – the way that she gazed at him as Marinette. His face became flush and his eyes glowed with such intensity, and that smile had her heart twist.

He never gave that smile to Marinette.

But she was Ladybug, right? Not that he knew…

Ladybug was his love; Marinette was a friend.

It wasn’t her lungs burning when she returned home, but there were still plenty of petals thrown into her waste bin as she cleaned her face.

 

* * *

 

There was a daisy on her desk.

One of the smaller, wilder breeds that easily flourished in the public parks lay upon her desk, its pristine petals dyed pink by the red-tinted saliva coating it.

Gasping, she choked and coughed, petals spilling from her mouth to surround the single blossom and finally leaving her airway clear. Marinette stared at the glistening pile in disbelief, collecting her breath after several more seconds and slowly managed to raise her head.

Mme. Bustier was stalk still at the front of the class and everyone else remained frozen in their seats. No one said a word, not even Chloé who stared up completely slack jawed as silence permeating the room. Beside Marinette, she knew Alya’s mouth was wide open and could see that she had paled from the corner of her eye, but that didn’t bother her. What did was seeing  _ his _ wide green eyes flitting from the flower pile and then rising to look at her, stricken.

Gooseflesh rose across her arms as her skin became clammy. She felt the lingering dredges of spittle running down her lips and dripping from her chin. Her fingers curled on her desk, nails scratching as she trembled, staring him in the eye.

And then, she bolted.

Racing all the way home, the short distance left her without breath and stumbling into the Patisserie, collapsing onto the ground and startling several patrons. Sobbing, she could barely breathe; and her head spun and her heart hammered like a rock beating to break her ribs all while her lungs  _ burned _ , but this was what she wanted, right? She wanted to experience this, to find love herself, but she doesn’t know anymore.

Marinette stumbled as her mother escorted her upstairs and into the bathroom where she coughed up several more tinged daisies into their toilet and petals of various species. She refused to see Alya when she came over to deliver notes from class.

 

* * *

 

“Chat?”

“Hm? What is it, My Lady?”

His luminescent acid eyes glow as they refract the moonlight gazing in her direction. There’s a wide smile on his face, but it fell upon seeing her expression. She doesn’t know what she looked like herself, but she’d like to think she looked serious. And she must from the way that his expression sobered. Staring at him, her lips parted, but she hesitated, looking away.

“… Do you… have Hanahaki?”

Her fingers clenched at her side and she felt herself shaking. However, it was only that much; the rest of her hopefully did not give off her guilt. His eyes lingered on her and silence filled the space between them. Tilting his head back, his boots shifted as he turned to face the landscape with a shrug.

“I do… Not as bad as I expected though,” he replied, eyes gazing up at the moon. Blinking, she was surprised to see him smiling. “It’s maybe… one or two seeds? Usually right after patrol or after we deal with an akuma accompanied with some minor chest pains.”

What?

“I might cough up an extra seed while sitting around at home and thinking about you.”

How?

Turning back to gaze upon her, he was grinning widely. “I mean, the person I love doesn’t exactly feel the same as I do, but I have hope for one day! In the meantime, she loves me enough!”

… It hurts.

He had that gaze just like Adrien, where his eyes glowed and his smile was full of adoration, one she never saw out of her transformation. That made sense from Chat Noir, but why? Why did it remind her so much of Adrien? Her chest throbbed and she felt something rising in her throat. Whipping her head away, it was only brief, but she saw his face shift as the tickling caused her to cover her mouth and cough. The small pellet landing in her palm made a chill race down her spine.

“Ladyb--?”

“I have to go!”

“W-Wait!  _ Ladybug! _ ”

But she didn’t look back again.

Seed escaping her grasp once she landed back on her balcony, Marinette slipped back into her room and stumbled down from the loft, her mind in a hazy. Calling off her transformation, her hands clasped the vanity sink just in time.

She saw red, petals, and flowers.

Colors blurred; she couldn’t feel anything.

Darkness overcame her.

 

* * *

 

_ “Marinette, you’re to take two pills every day: one in the morning, and one at night.” _

On her desk, the bottle ran low fast. Her parents made sure to restock it.

_ “Now, as for the side effects, you’ll begin to feel different. As well, your lungs will still struggle to take in an adequate amount of oxygen so I’m going to send you home with oxygen tanks.” _

Her sketchbook sat, a blank page staring back at her and her pencil sitting astray. Chatter continued around her; Alya attempted to engage her, but Marinette couldn’t muster the ability to do so. She did nothing, but stared back, listening without understanding why she should do anything. And there was Nino, and there was Adrien, and there was Chloé mentioning… something.

Right there – oh, she was holding her sketchbook flipping through it and… She tore something out.

People were yelling.

Standing up… but that was it.

Chloé was right there with another hand in her sketchbook to tear out another page, but Marinette just stared.

“Y-You don’t scare me…! I’ll do it! I swear I will!”

Marinette doesn’t think she liked this, but she wasn’t sure staring still at the other girl. She should be mad? Something burned, but it’s in her chest, not her head. Slowly, she picked up her bag and just walked past Chloé without a word.

_ “I’ll be writing you a pass for physical education, and you’ll have to avoid any situations where you may overexert yourself.” _

“Marinette… you need to stop taking the pills…”

The footage of Antibug played on her desktop and she tried to think of what happened after the cleanse again; or, what even happened in the fight. There had been one, then a second one, but what happened? Blinking, Tikki was hovering in her face, the video paused. Did she stop it? The little red kwami was frowning. Did she say something? What was happening anymore? Placing her hands on her oxygen mask, Marinette inhaled and exhaled, and felt the tips of her fingers become damp, feeling something come back. Her fingertips moved up to the bottom of her eyes and…

“… Why am I crying? Tikki, w-why am I crying? What did I do?”

Staring again, her breathing picked up when she gazed past Tikki and focused on the crumpled black heap, their arms and legs bound behind their back and around silver pole, lying motionless on the ground – paused – no, the time was ticking. Nails pricked her cheeks and her heart plummeted into her stomach.

She didn’t hear her mother enter her room over her scream. However, Marinette fell into her mother’s arms as she wailed, and wheezed, and ripped off her mask, heaving yellow rose petal after yellow rose petal onto her carpet, petals darkening in the growing red pool.

 

* * *

 

It was only a matter of time before Marinette emotionally felt like herself again, and felt the pain return anew. Every day, waking up was becoming more of a struggle where she barely caught her breath through the knot of vines settling in her throat and her breathlessness carried with her until she put her oxygen mask on. Color too began to fade from her, the once unique paleness becoming gray, and the tips of her extremities and lips adopting a light blue hue. Touching anything was like feeling a numb blister just sensing heat and accompanied by a flurry of static nothing beneath the skin. The petals and rosy saliva were common for her now, but the flowers were beginning to become more frequent and their size beginning to grow. She felt the weight in her lungs and merely trembled each time she had a gasp. It should concern her more, but it didn’t.

Instead, eyes opening, she stared at the familiar blonde curls one seat below her wondering why Adrien suddenly seemed so distant. He could act like himself so well, but she noticed when his laughs became forced, when his smile became a mask, and when the light faded from his eyes. It seemed like after Antibug, he just began to withdraw further into himself.

And Chat Noir…

Marinette was not surprised at all when his puns grew absent and the nicknames died. She tried to explain what happened after they dealt with Horrificator, but he had said nothing, keeping his back turned towards her as he left once the job was done. Kung Food, Jackady, Princess Fragrance, he never looked at her the same if they looked at each other at all. When they finished patrol that evening, he had already turned away and extended his baton before she could say goodbye. Watching his form disappear into the night, she wondered if the vines could grow into her heart and crush it faster. It was over between them, wasn’t it?

Tears welling and spilling over her mask, she readied her yo-yo to leave, but paused.

On the ledge Chat had been standing before, was a pile of green and yellow rose petals. Wide eyed, she lowered her hand and approached, noticing how they took a silvery sheen in the night. Hesitantly, she extended her empty hand to pick the petals apart, ignoring how they were warm, and froze again when she spotted the single ruby petal buried at the bottom.

“… Chat.”

She clutched his doll tightly to her chest that night.

 

* * *

 

She found herself in a foreign white room when she awoke. There was no energy or will in her body to get up and her eyes focused on her parents and the doctor hovering by her bedside. They were talking; her mother was weeping and her father was doing his best to console her. Her lips moved, but she only managed a shuddering pant. What happened this time? She recalled Adrien’s room – her and Chat Noir defeated Volpina and Adrien had been on the other side of the door…

… But then what?

_ “… following the pills, there’s a eighty percent chance her temporal lobe is damaged with a ninety percent chance it's permanent. Are you sure you want to go through with this?” _

_ “It’s… the only option left.” _

This was… a surgical consultation? Then, she had to be at the hospital. When and how did she get here? She didn’t understand, but when she next shifted, they had noticed. Her parents came closer, and her mother placed a hand on her cheek, stroking her face with her thumb.

“M-Maman… P… Papa…?”

“Marinette, do you remember what happened?” Her mother’s voice was gentle like always when she needed her. And she tried so hard to recall, wanting to respond to her comfort, but her blank expression must have answered before her. Again, her eyes looked between all three of the adults present in the room. Her father stepped away with the doctor to quietly continue talking while her mother sat down on her bedside and took up her hand. “Chat Noir brought you in, sweetheart. There was a commotion. Someone had called for an ambulance, but he carried you here instead because your flowers were suffocating you.”

Suffocating on… ah…

Marinette remembered her forehead pressing against Adrien’s bathroom door, but then she pulled away. She had… departed, tasting blood and feeling petals accumulating in her mouth, and her transformation was about to run out. Stumbling into seclusion, but then there was a blank.

Though… someone had yelled her name.

Maybe? It could have been in her head; what wasn’t these days?

Managing a slow nod, her mother squeezed her hand.

“… We know you wanted to try falling in love,” she started, and Marinette could feel her shaking. “And you have… But…”

But no, she already understood.

Without love from the one she loved, she would die. Options to slow the progression until she could either garner his affection or get over her feelings for him were gone. Surgery was the only remaining option left, but as everyone learned, there could be irreversible damage caused to the mind once the flowers were removed. They might be rooted to the lungs, but activity from the temporal lobe influenced their growth. The operation could cut her off from her memories and from ever loving again, but not having the operation guaranteed she would die.

“… Okay. It’s okay, Maman.”

There was no other choice. 

 

* * *

 

“Princess…? Marinette?”

Her room was dark, but she saw acid eyes looming from the shadows and soon made out Chat Noir’s form. Staring at him, his footsteps were quiet as he approached with his faux ears flat against his head. There was something about his eyes, and about the way he held himself, that made him seem small. Sorrow marred his features and her eyes opened wider when they fell upon the scarlet crusted around his mouth and on his lips. His gloved hand resting upon her hand felt so warm, but that was all she felt. The true feeling of his fingers was nothing but pressure against her palm.

“I… I’ve been stupid, haven’t I?”

Her eyebrow raised slightly, quizzical at what he was saying. He – well, he had before everything always been a silly cat, but stupid? No, she wouldn’t say that. Fingers twitching in his grasp, she at least drew his attention so he could watch her shake her head. Any hope of that reassuring him was not enough. His eyes darkened and became glassy, the corners welling with unshed tears. He literally choked a laugh out, several daisies and a mesh of yellow and pink rose petals falling onto her bed.

“I just… realized, you know? After that day, what I mean to—her…”

Cold emptiness rising in her stomach, she wondered if he was talking about Antibug and after. She let him fall. He expected her to save him, and  _ she _ let him  _ fall _ . Of course he didn’t know anymore because those pills – no, this  _ stupid _ disease she let herself catch made him think she didn’t care. But she couldn’t not care for her wonderful partner, and she wanted to hug him and console him, but she couldn’t get off her bed as much as she tried. Instead she could only tremble.

Perhaps he realized that was what she wanted to do? Or maybe he was feeling tired with the illness ravaging his own body because he eased himself onto the bed with her, careful of her tubing and wires. It would all be gone tomorrow evening if the surgery was successful. If this was going to be her last memory, she would cherish it for the time being, and with her head coming to rest against his shoulder, he didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, he welcomed it. Raising his other hand, Marinette felt his fingers lace through her hair and his claws lightly skimmed her scalp. It was… nice to feel and made her forget about the oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth. It made her forget about the stems probably writhing in her lungs trying to force their way out. That was probably how it felt to be loved.

“… Do you think it’s too late? To talk to her and apologize?” he asked lowly, hand still combing her hair. She struggled to swallow, his question dragging her back to the present. If only she could tell him she already forgave him and that there was no reason for him to apologize. She was the one who needed to apologize and set him free so he could fall in love with someone else. All she managed was a nod and exhale, her fingers clenching his hand in reassurance and putting his words to memory for later.

He would apologize to her.

“I’m sorry…”

And she would forgive him, and tell him… what? She loved him to the nonexistent capacity she could? Telling him someone else could come along might be better.

“Marinette… My Lady, I’m so sorry…”

…

Stiffening, she blinked and tilted her head just enough to see him looking back at her, the tears that had been threatening to spill finally falling. Her initial response was to deny what he had said, but it quickly became her wanting to ask how and when he had found out. Her heart hammering in her chest, she managed to pull her hand free of his and attempted to grab the front of his suit only for him to take her hand and cup it against his face.

“It was after Horrificator. When you explained how you were on medication, I-I thought about it over the next week and kinda put two-and-two together.” He dropped his eyes. “You must… love this person a lot to get to this point, Princess…”

She shouldn’t be surprised that telling him about her medication had been enough to let him in on her identity. It was a matter of correlation and- wait. But how had he known that she –  _ Marinette _ – had begun taking medicine? Chat Noir had only been to her house two times and in her room once, and she didn’t have the pills at either instance.

Eyes opening, she locked gazes with him and stared deeply into his eyes. He had vertical pupils now, but if she tried to look past that… and then she wondered, raising her hand to his face. She wondered if his face felt soft and she hoped she wasn’t pressing too hard on his skin as she felt over his mask and began to move around his hair. There was something to this look; that, if his hair parted a little more to the right and this lock didn’t fall between his eyes, that he could look like…

… him.

Her heart monitor started to race and she gasped, holding his face. All this time, while pining for her, it really was him?

… What?

“Ad… Ad-rien…??”

“Hi, Marinette,” he softly whispered, eyes momentarily looking away when one machine chirped behind her back. If that didn’t come down soon, her on-call doctor would be alerted, but her thoughts were running, tears prickling and falling while she still cupped his face. She committed his face, his nose, everything she could to memory with her hand as she whimpered, hyperventilating, but smiling.

“M-Marinette, stop. You’re going to choke if you don’t calm down.”

But she shook her head, clutching his bell? Shoulder? Wherever her hand landed, she was gripping as hard as she could.

“You… it—it’s you… always,” she wheezed, sobbing, but laughing. “Adr-ien… C-Chat, it’s you. Please- it was always…”

She was losing breath fast and he was calling her name, footsteps pounding towards her door. Pulling away her mask was an effort, shaking her head when he attempted to put it back on. Clasping his bell, she mustered the strength to pull him down, ignoring how their teeth knocked and letting herself be enveloped by the softness of his lips.

Stupid…

It was always him… Both of him, all of him.

And they both inhaled as their lips parted.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I came across this post on my phone and sent it to my usual beta reader/friend PocketNoivern and immediately, she was basically like 'Don't do the thing'... so I wrote the thing. Now then, gimme a moment to be a pseudo-medical nerd because I am not an actual doctor, but I had some help (and did research) working on this one.
> 
> First off, **Hanahaki Byou/Hanahaki Disease isn't real** so never worry about growing flowers in your lungs... unless a seed accidentally gets into your lung somehow (that can be a thing). With that out of the way, let's discuss how this disease basically works.
> 
> It runs in the vein of many Psychosomatic Diseases/Disorders where mental stresses can result in your body physically becoming ill. For a good example, look into "Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy" aka Broken-Heart Syndrome where people end up suffering heart complications mostly out of grief. Now, Hanahaki itself isn't only mental because the flowers literally growing, but the most I could think of is that the disorder is tied with a Fungus that is airborne and can be transmitted from human-to-human. Why only the lungs? It's nice and damp and can get all the factors for growth except sunlight (but connected to the body, it can leech off supplies of Vitamin D). This fungus responds to activity in the Temporal Lobe where things like communication, emotions, and memory are housed.
> 
> Symptoms include: Physical growth of flowers, Dizziness, Cyanosis, Shortness of Breath, Blood in Saliva, Chest Pains
> 
> Risks include: Fainting, Pulmonary edema, Pulmonary embolism, asphyxiation, and death
> 
> Now yes, Unrequited Love can come in many forms, and Love doesn't always remain so the progression and treatment of the cure is actually pretty simple: have those feelings returned, or fall out of love. However, for severe cases like Marinette's, there's medicine to limit activity in the Temporal Lobe to slow the growth of the flowers, but the side effects involve lacking communication, emotions, and losing the general ability to form memories. Also, since the flowers haven't been removed, they still hinder the lungs making Oxygen Therapy necessary. However, when worse comes to worse, the last option is surgery. With the physical removal of the flowers, there will be some damage to the Temporal Love and Amygdala which can be permanent.
> 
> If you wanna know more, you can ask. I've just made a wall of text when I should really be signing out. So, please leave comments, kudos, and subscribe for any future updates! See you next time!


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